


out with the old, in with the new

by plingo_kat



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: CAN WE ALL TALK ABOUT CORVO'S OUTFIT, Dishonored 2, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7641595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Speaking of,” Emily says. “You <em>have</em> gone to the tailors to get your new suit for the coronation, haven’t you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	out with the old, in with the new

**Author's Note:**

> For [fuguefeastinjuly](http://fuguefeastinjuly.tumblr.com/)!

“I should have just assassinated the lot of them,” Corvo says to himself, spying another of Emily’s courtiers/advisors/nuisances striding purposefully up the corridor. He lifts his chin and stares straight ahead.

“No you shouldn’t,” Emily says. She hooks her arm more firmly into his. “Besides, you never say that when _I_ ask you to kill someone who annoys me.”

“That’s because you’re a fair and just empress,” Corvo says. “I’m a grumpy old heretic.”

“And the Lord Protector,” Emily says pointedly. “And the Regent. And—“

“Enough,” Corvo says. His stern tone is ineffective, mostly because his mouth turns up in a smile. “Besides, after tonight I’ll no longer be regent, thank the powers. You can be in charge of all the official paperwork.”

“I’ll make you learn how to forge my signature,” Emily says.

Corvo ducks his head to chuckle. “Whatever my Empress commands.”

The walk past Emily’s suitor/councilor/pest with blithe disregard. “Speaking of,” Emily says. “You _have_ gone to the tailors to get your new suit for the coronation, haven’t you?”

Corvo stays silent. Guiltily. He had meant to, really he did, but one thing after another had popped up, and he’d never gotten around to it.

“You haven’t,” Emily concludes. “Lucky for you, I foresaw this occurring and asked for a fitting right about… now.” She tugs him down the hallway leading toward the service section of the palace.

 

* 

 

“What,” Corvo says, “is that.”

“It’s your new uniform,” Emily says innocently. Her cheekbones are too sharp, her eyes too tired for it to work now, but Corvo crumbles to it in any case. “Don’t you like it?”

“It has no sleeves,” he tries.

“You always complain about your Lord Protector coat catching on things,” Emily says reasonably. “No sleeves and no coattail would solve that problem.”

“It looks like it’s made from silk!” Corvo says.

“Your old coat was lined with silk,” Emily points out.

“How am I supposed to lurk menacingly when my overcoat – my vest? – my… clothing reflects the light?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that anymore,” Emily says, folding her arms over her chest. “The nights are cold in Dunwall, Corvo.”

“Yes, but,” Corvo says, and stalls. He can’t win. He _knows_ he can’t win. He should just give in gracefully.

“Aren’t you going to try it on?” Emily senses weakness. She’ll make a great empress, Corvo thinks with pride.

“Very well,” Corvo sighs. “Thank you, Emily.”

He tries the clothes on. They’re tight. He bends an elbow, experimentally, and winces a little as the cloth creaks in protest.

…Where the hell is he supposed to put his sword? Will he need a system of belts?

“I may need to get these enlarged,” he says, sidling out of the dressing room. Emily looks up from a letter and eyes him critically, then _beams_. Corvo has to smile back at her unabashed joy.

“You look dashing,” she says. “I don’t think you need to change anything, Corvo.”

“Maybe not for tonight,” Corvo concedes. There won’t be time to alter anything anyway. “But if I’m going to keep wearing this, I need to be able to move in it. You don’t want me to rip my shirt at the shoulder every time I draw my sword, do you?”

“We-ell…” Emily says. “I certainly know some ladies who would.”

“They aren’t your Lord Protector,” Corvo says. “I don’t give a whistle from the void what they think.”

Emily laughs. “I think you can do what you like to alter your uniform, so long as you show up to my coronation!”

Corvo is struck, suddenly, by Emily’s face; the easy lightness of it, the unlined plane of her brow. This is what he spent all those nights for, the skulking and sneaking, the blackmail and sleepless nights, the fruitless, frustrating conversations with the Outsider. The chance to see Emily happy and thriving, rising to take the throne and bring Dunwall into the light. Jessamine would be proud to see her daughter now, he thinks with a pang. At least he’s done that much right in his life.

It’s such a little thing, then, to wear the clothes Emily gives him, to make her happy. Corvo allows that revelation to curve his lips upward, corners of his eyes crinkling, and steps forward to tuck a strand of Emily’s hair behind her ear.

“I will,” he says, and kisses her on the forehead. “And I’ll stand there proudly as you’re crowned.”

Emily hugs him. Corvo wraps his arms around his daughter and savors the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> plingokat @ twitter


End file.
